Time remains (some) for the transmigration of the soul of James Joyce’s Ulysses into this overwrought ultra-modern life, through you, with you, and in you, and, penultimately, out of you and into the world, anew. Yes, through you! But you must be prompt: time ceases on Monday 27 February, per the rules of this game.
I beseech you. Take us beyond the Bloomin’ readings! There surely are myriad modes of imagining that remain untouched and untried but true to Ulysses and the 16th of June. Just close your eye and see them. Adaptions. Contraptions. Do you see them now? (now?)
You, Sound Engineer! Take me inside Marion (Molly) Bloom’s head to hear for the first time the sweet rise & falling cacaphony of her interwined strands of voice and memory and clutter and love.
You, Pod Caster! Why not try to capture clearly a raucous yet ardent argument of pivotal points of Ulysses amongst a gaggle of pint-lifters as they dig deep deeper down into the soil of one page.
You, Sign Maker and Scholar! Would it kill you just once to walk the streets of Dublin in absolute silence (monk-like) in a nice orderly single file to become a wandering sentence from Ulysses with placards you hold in front of you (H.E.L.Y’S-like)? I mean do you think you could manage it?
And You, Pub Crawler! With all the handhelds and wireless surrounding us and the excess grey power in your noggin, do you think you could match Joycean’s around the world in a global trivia night/pub quiz for Bloomsday?
Yeah, there was a touch of the artist in old Bloom and it only stands to reason there is a touch of the artist in you too. So get to it! Propose something enlightening to LiberateUlysses this year, this very day, this very instant. — Steve Cole, Baltimore
liberateUlysses 